Crossing paths. . .

During this moment in time, I am relaxing on one of the comfortable blue sofas (lotus position, with my netbook balanced on my knees) in a pleasant lounge area while waiting for my car to be serviced. I have been sharing the space with several other people, some only briefly, but two, like me, seem to have settled in. I find myself wondering about their stories; their journeys, if you will, but I haven't asked. Unlike Bob, I'm seldom inclined to strike up conversations with folks I don't know. He almost always did that and when he and the individual parted ways, even though they would never see each other again, for those moments in time it was as if they had always been buddies. I'm more of an introvert, I guess, which I have learned is often interpreted as being aloof. (I guess, on some level, I can understand that misinterpretation, yet, I remain surprised by it.) In an attempt to offset that impression, I do try to make a habit of making eye contact, saying hello or at the very least, to smile and offer a pleasant expression, more often.

Two people have unknowingly captured my attention as we all sit here and I find myself saying silent prayers for each of them. I don't mean that they appear needy, in any sense, but I believe their health may be a bit fragile or, if not, most likely heading there. The gentleman, who is asleep now and probably dreaming of the late '60's, has a clean but very bushy beard, long-ish hair and he is wearing very dark sunglasses. (Cool shades, man.) He seemed a little shortwinded as he entered the room; as if he had brisk-walked from the other side of town rather than having moseyed down from upstairs. The mid-elderly woman set my thoughts in motion when I first observed her walking in. She also appeared to be physically unfit. We smiled and exchanged a few polite comments. Seeing me busily involved with my netbook, she very considerately asked if I minded if she turned on the TV. I said I absolutely did not mind at all. From that point, we went our separate ways, so to speak. Gradually, I allowed myself to drift into a slight withdrawal from reality so that I became immersed in the circumstances purely as an observer--an audience. (Something I developed the knack for at a very early age.) The "show" became like a television "sit com" and the scenario began to be quite entertaining. When I glanced up from my netbook work, this is what I saw: "Mid Elderly" was having a mid-morning snack of chips and soda, watching Ellen DeGeneres while reading a Nora Roberts book. Don't get me wrong, I'm not belittling any of those things at all. (I, myself, am hooked on "Judge Judy," after all.) It was just one of those "giggly moments" when it simply struck me funny and I had to work at not letting it show. Pretty soon, "Mid" got up and walked somewhere. I thought she might be taking a look at some of the new cars in the show room but then I saw that she was walking slowly back and forth on the walkway outside of the new car showroom, smoking a cigarette. (That explained so many facial wrinkles.) With that, "Bearded Dreamer" began to snore and a little musical "jingle" began to play itself in my head. The jingle never completely materialized but the gist of it was a varied rendition of a children's song, "one of these things just doesn't belong" except mine was "all of these things......"

Is this a "bad" thing? Am I terribly naughty? Have I entertained myself at the expense of others? Should I be remorseful? How come? Or why not? Am I being too hard on myself? After all, I can't control my thoughts, can I? I mean......it's not like I pointed and laughed out loud or anything. And, besides, just yesterday...didn't I even laugh at myself? Doesn't that even things up?

I meant what I said about the prayers. I will be carrying both of these two dear people home with me in my heart and although they will never be aware of it, they have touched my life in a special way by crossing paths with me on this day of our journey together. Everything we do, matters, even when we think no one is paying attention.